by Leah Braemel
Chad handed them more pictures. The first was a high quality photograph that could have been taken by a professional. The next two were grainy. But all had red targets drawn on his chest.
Kris fingered the third one, of Sam exiting the Hauberk building. “From the blue hue of this one and the pixellation, it looks like it was taken from an older cell phone.”
“Or it could be blue because one of the colors of ink in the printer was running low, Skippy,” Andy said.
Rosie glanced at Kris’s before studying the next better quality photo-this one of Sam parking his Harley Road King in front of a large red brick Colonial building-an elite club from the looks of it. Whenever she’d seen him at the office he was in tailored suits, but in the photo he was wearing a leather biker jacket and a pair of leather pants that clung to him like a second skin. If she hadn’t already admired his ass, this picture would have clinched the deal.
Andy exchanged pictures with Rosie, this one of Sam holding open the door as a leggy blonde got out of his Jaguar.
She held it up closer, wishing she had a magnifying glass handy. “I’d say this one was shot through a window. There’s a reflection.”
Sam whirled toward them, his jaw snapping closed, his lips tightening as he glared first at her, then at Chad. “I thought you said-”
He bit off the remainder of his comment and some sort of nonverbal exchange occurred-but about what Rosie couldn’t tell. Somehow she had a feeling it was about her. Though why, she couldn’t guess. Her record at Hauberk was spotless.
“We’ll discuss it later, Sam.” Chad handed them copies of another photo. “This one arrived last night-they broke into his place, disarmed the security and left it on his bed.”
If she hadn’t recognized the setting and his suit, she’d never known it was Sam, considering his face had been digitally removed and replaced with blood, brains and gore.
“Didn’t they set off the silent alarm?” Andy asked.
“Nope, whoever it was knew the code to turn it off. Security tapes show a male entering through the lobby, bold as brass. Had a hood up, and he faced away from the cameras as if he knew they were there.”
“So no description,” Andy finished in disgust.
“We know it’s probably a male between 5’10 and 6’2, no age, no hair color, possibly white but we’re not even sure of that.”
“Just dandy. That narrows it down a whole bunch.” Andy straightened from his place on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned in. “Didn’t the guard on duty check his ID before he let him in?”
“He was…otherwise occupied.”
Andy snorted. “Tell me the idjit wasn’t in the bathroom givin’ himself a hand job or smokin’ up.”
“He said he’d left his desk to investigate the smell of pot coming from the stairwell. Says he wasn’t out of sight from the front door for more than sixty seconds. I figure it was probably more like a couple minutes. In any case, we’re re-examining the building’s security.” Chad tossed the file folder on Sam’s desk, then hitched one hip on the desk. “Sam’s also received threatening calls to his home phone.”
“Three.” They looked up as one, startled that Sam had rejoined the conversation. “You’re making it sound like I’ve received dozens. I’ve only received three calls.”
From the corner of her eye, Rosie saw Chad shaking his head in frustration.
“Did you recognize the voice?” she asked.
“No. It was a male, no accent that I could hear, street noises in the background but nothing recognizable.” He bit the words out. “First time he talked about how he’d seen me that day and how easy it would be to take me out. How he wished he’d had his gun, then he hung up. He’s gotten a bit more creative since but nothing specific about what I did to make him want to kill me.” He resumed his study of the parking lot.
“What’s Caller ID show?” Kris asked.
“He’s using pay phones at various locations around the city,” Chad answered when Sam didn’t respond. “We’ve checked the addresses, but so far there’ve been no security cameras near the phones. When we dusted the phones for prints, they’d been wiped clean.”
While Kris, Chad and Andy continued to discuss who might have that information, and how easy it might or might not be to find, Rosie let the conversation flow past her and observed Sam ignoring them all. He had eschewed protection for three months, and even now stood in front of a window, a clear target. Was he trying to prove his invincibility? That he wasn’t afraid?
His eyes scanned the rear parking lot, the field beyond. Alert. Aware. But not an ounce of fear.
Maybe he was being driven by guilt. Did he have a death wish? Because if he did, that would make her job that much harder.
She glanced back down at the photo of the leggy blonde. What she wouldn’t give for another eight inches in height and blonde hair. She’d tried peroxide once, but it wasn’t worth the trouble, not with her complexion. But maybe she should consider it again if that’s what it took to get Sam Watson’s attention.
In the reflection of the glass, his eyes met hers. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t, the darkness of his gaze drawing her in, compelling her to keep the contact. There was heat in his gaze, need.
“With all due respect, Mr. Watson, may I ask you to move away from the window? If someone is watching, you’re presenting a good target right now,” Rosie said, glad to hear her voice was steady.
There was a moment’s hesitation before Sam sat in his chair. There was a flare of frustration in his eyes before he veiled his expression.
No, not guilt. Frustration at having to place his life in someone else’s hands. Sam Watson was a pride-filled ego-driven walking pile of testosterone.
I’m not letting this whacko get you on my watch, buddy. Better a hit to your ego than your life.
As if sensing her challenge, Sam leaned back, dropping his chin to his chest. His gaze dropped from hers to her lips, then made a leisurely perusal of her chest before slowly travelling a reverse route and catching her gaze once more.
Ready to burst into flames, she dropped her gaze to his lips and imagined them kissing her breasts, his teeth nipping and catching her nipples, suckling them. His fingers flexed, drawing her attention. What would it feel like to have those long fingers caress her bare skin, blaze a trail down her stomach, down to that aching area between her thighs and stroke her clit, pressing deep inside-
“-you think, Rosie?”
Rosie blinked and looked at Kris, who nudged her with his knee. He was staring at her as if she’d grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead.
“Don’t you agree?” he asked as if repeating a question.
Agree? To what?
“Yes, I do,” she quickly answered. So unprofessional, her conscience lectured. Your boss needs a bodyguard, not a lover. Besides, she had an unbreakable rule about never dating co-workers. A glance at Sam and that one tilted eyebrow told her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about instead of work. “Who else knows the security code of your condo?”
“Me,” Sam said with not a little irritation. “My cleaning crew, and it’s probably on file somewhere here in case of emergency-Sandy may have it. The IT guys possibly could access it.”
“I hate to say this, but it’s looking like an inside job.” Andy set the photos he’d collected on the desk. “I think we should look at Hauberk employees-those who might have received a bad report, or have recently quit.”
“Goddamn it! It’s not a Hauberk employee.” Sam laced his fingers together, clasping them so hard the nail beds were white.
“Andy’s right, Sam. We can’t rule anybody out at this time,” Chad said quietly. “Very few people have access to your private phone number. Even less to your security code.”
Rosie recognized the Voice of Reason coming out in him, and heard the steel behind it as well. As much as Sam Watson was bucking the truth, Chad wouldn’t let him ignore it.
Go Chad.
> “They could have pretexted the phone number from the goddamned phone company. From security at the condo. You know how easy it is to get information-they phone up and pretend they’re me, or my mother, for Christ’s sake.” Sam took a deep breath and continued in a more normal tone, though his smooth southern accent had disappeared.
“Damn it, Chad. It’s not an employee. Not one of mine. You know everyone has to go through background checks.” He swiveled his chair around to the window again, his head resting on his thumb and forefinger at his temple. “It’s not an employee.”
She wanted to reach over and lay her hand on his but knew she couldn’t. Instead she sat back, considering the ramifications that it might be someone they worked with. The idea that someone she worked with might wish ill of their boss was terrifying, especially given the capabilities and backgrounds of some of her co-workers.
Chad cleared his throat. “We’ll assume Sam’s safe while he’s inside this building. Besides if anyone did try anything, there’ll be enough people around to stop whoever it is.”
If it was one of them, Sam might be safer out of the office.
“Outside of the office, I want you to treat this as a high-level protection assignment. We have no idea what type of attack to expect. We have no idea what to expect-watch for a sniper, a close attack, or even a bomb.”
Sam cursed-not low enough to be said it was under his breath, but loud enough to let them know Chad’s suggestion annoyed him.
He shot a look at Sam who sighed and nodded his head once. “I want at least two of you with him from the moment he leaves this building to when he walks back in the next day. You escort him everywhere he goes. Don’t forget to check his mail every day and make sure there are no nasty surprises in it. Don’t take anything for granted.”
“You can do that, Rosie. Real guys don’t check the mail.” Kris grinned and stuck out his foot until his toe bumped hers.
Sam shot out of his chair so fast that his chair bounced off the wall behind him. He leaned across the desk, grinding his fists into the desktop. “Ms. Ramos is one of Hauberk’s top CPOs. She deserves your respect, not your sexist bullshit. You hear me?”
A flush rose up Kris’s neck as his lips pressed together so hard they turned white. “Yes, sir, Mr. Watson.”
Chad cleared his throat. “Why don’t you three step out for a moment?”
Kris stood, his naval training showing in his rigid posture. From a movement of his hand, Rosie would have bet he was forcing himself not to salute as they left the office.
Chapter Four
Chad followed them out, closing the door to Sam’s office behind him. “Rosie, Kris, you guys go on over to my office. Andy? You got a minute?”
Leaving the two men, Rosie followed Kris into Chad’s office beside Sam’s and set the door against the jamb so they couldn’t overhear whatever Chad was saying to Andy. When she finally sat, she didn’t feel the need to perch the way she had in Sam’s office.
His fingers flexing and releasing at each turn, Kris paced the five steps of the office.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. I didn’t mean anything. I was just joking about you checking the mail.”
“I know you were, Kris.”
“Do you think I should go back and apologize to Mr. Watson? I don’t want him to think I’m a slacker.” He glanced back at the door to the executive office, his body angling as if he was about to do exactly that.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He’s a bit too wound up right now-let Chad get him cooled down.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Kris passed three more times before he paused halfway across the office, stabbing his fingers through his hair. He’d let it grow out from the high and tight he’d had when she’d first met him, and now his mahogany hair flowed around his fingers in thick waves. Normally she would have found it attractive. But for some reason, a certain almost-shaved head was more appealing to her right now.
Ay bendito, she shouldn’t be thinking of her boss that way. Not since he was now her principal.
When Andy came in and shot Kris a glare, Kris walked to the window and stared out, reminding Rosie of Sam’s posture earlier. After a few moments, he said, “You guys know I didn’t mean anything with that crack, right? I was joking-I’d never let anything happen to you or to anyone. I’d take a bullet for any one of you.”
“Yeah, we know, Skippy, but your timing sure sucks,” Andy added as he hitched a hip on the windowsill. “You need to control that case of diarrhea of the mouth you’re afflicted with.”
“Either of you hear anyone griping about Sam in the locker room? Or over at Charley’s?” Deciding a change of subject was in order, Rosie named the bar a lot of the operatives frequented to shoot the breeze and a little pool during the long slow stretches.
Chad walked into the office and threw the file folder of photos on his desk. His tie had been loosened and twisted askew, the top button of his shirt loosened.
“Okay, listen up, folks. Considering we think it might be someone inside, I think it best if we try to keep this on the QT. As far as I know, before today, only Sam, Sandy and I knew about the pictures and the threats. So if anyone mentions anything about either-consider them a suspect.”
After they all agreed, Chad stared at the two male operatives. “I’m making Rosie the lead op on this case.”
The urge to stand up and cheer at her first supervisory assignment warred with the heavy burden of leadership that crushed her shoulders. Every decision she made, every order she gave would be witnessed by none other than the owner of Hauberk himself. Someone who had the power to override her anytime he wanted. Someone who had the power to fire her. But why her and not Andy who had more seniority?
“Either of you got a problem with that?” Chad continued.
Andy gave Chad a thumbs up as he winked at Rosie.
Kris shrugged. “Hey, no problemo here, boss. Her ass will be a lot sweeter to kiss than lardbutt’s over there.”
“Check the attitude, Campbell.” Chad unlocked his top drawer and removed another folder and handed Rosie a piece of paper. “I’ve arranged to sublet an apartment in Sam’s building so you can keep an eye on him at night. This is a letter the owner of 1202 faxed over giving us access to his apartment. With that, building security should give you the spare set of keys the owner left with them. There’s also the security code to his place in there so you don’t set it off. Sam’s in suite 1201, you’ll be beside him in 1202-he’ll have to go by you to get to the elevator.”
“Or if someone’s trying to get to him, they’ll have to get past us first.” Rosie nodded her approval.
“Exactly. Kris, I want you to install extra cameras in the main hallway-I’ve already secured permission from building management. Set up a system in your apartment so you can monitor them. You’d better change the codes too. Whoever it was that broke in knew them. Let’s see if we can prevent that from happening again. Can you get everything working before tonight?”
Kris returned to his attention-on-deck stance. She needed to remind him he wasn’t in the navy anymore. “Yes, sir.”
“Andy, John Lake over in IT has configured a laptop so you can monitor the security system in Sam’s apartment. That way you’ll know immediately if he hits the panic button.”
“So John knows about the op?” Andy asked.
“Only that I asked you to keep a personal eye on Sam’s system because of the break-in.”
“But you trust us?” Kris asked.
“I already checked your schedules. None of you could have taken some of those pictures-you were out of D.C. on assignments when at least two of the pictures were taken.”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Okay, maybe Kris remembered he wasn’t in the navy still after all.
“Why don’t you guys head over to Sam’s and get started on those cameras. I’d like to talk to Rosie privately for a few minutes.”
“I’ll grab the laptop from the Nerd Brigade and meet you out
in the parking lot, Skippy.” Andy snagged the letter from Rosie as Kris unfurled himself from the chair.
Once they were alone, Chad leaned back in his chair. “I want your team to see if they can find any patterns of when the pictures were taken compared to who might have been off duty. Check the personnel files, see if there’s any reason someone might have a grudge, that type of thing. I’ve cleared your access with Personnel-they think you’re helping me do annual assessments so they shouldn’t hassle you.”
“I hate to think it’s someone inside Hauberk.”
“I’m hoping you’ll be able to rule out that possibility. I’ve also arranged for you to have access to any cases Sam was involved in from the time he started with Hauberk. If you have any questions and Sam or I aren’t available, you can ask Sandy.”
He opened the folder he’d tossed on the desk earlier, and removed a half dozen sheets of paper. “This is Sam’s schedule for the next month.”
Rosie scanned Sam’s appointments. “He’s got a fundraiser tomorrow night, a black tie event at the French embassy Thursday. A speech in Annapolis Friday, an event on Saturday morning, a literacy fundraiser Saturday night.” She flipped the page and tried to stop her jaw from dropping at the number of functions he was attending. “Next week he’s attending a party in Annapolis, a speech over at Explorer’s Hall, three more fundraisers-including ones for the Democrats and the Republicans, something at La Porte Rouge-whatever that is, an exhibition over at the Corcoran, another at the Library of Congress.” Too many people, too many places. Too many opportunities should anyone want to kill him. “I don’t suppose he’d be open to canceling any of these, would he?”
Chad made some weird noise in the back of his throat. When she looked up at him, he picked up a pen and began to doodle. “I, um, I think I can convince him to cancel out on a couple of those functions.” He tossed the pen back in the pot and took another, cleared his throat again. “As for the rest, you can ask, but don’t be surprised if he refuses. Man’s determined not to let someone get the best of him. You know what they say about doctors being the worst patients? Sam’s going to be our worst client.”
